


Embers of the Forge

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Awkwardness, Crushes, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 09:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: Under the boot of a greedy brewery supervisor and hated around every street corner, Erelin's only friend offers her some help.





	Embers of the Forge

“Hi.” Erelin spoke to the brash women behind the armor stall, keeping her eyes cast down to the counter. She could feel Grelka’s cold, irritated gaze on the top of her head as the Altmer looked over what was on offer today. “I need some of this.” She pointed at a small bundle of leather. It wasn’t very well-made, but it was cheap.

Erelin counted out a small handful of coins and placed it down, taking her purchase without a sound and walking away, not even pausing as the Nord muttered some slur or another. It was a common thread in the months since she’d arrived in the city, and she couldn’t well blame them. Still, she wished they wouldn’t say such things.

The Altmer stepped out of the market plaza and approached the smith, hard at work at his forge. She cleared her throat softly, though it was drowned out by an untimely hiss of heated steel in water. As the sound died down, she cleared her throat again, raising her eyes to meet Balimund’s face as she held out the bundle of materials. “Here’s what you asked for, sir. It’s all I could afford.”

Gently, he took the leather and unbound it, flipping through the cuts. He remained silent for a few seconds as he gauged the quality before nodding at her. “It’s amatuer work but I can use it. Much appreciated, Erelin.” The Nord tucked the leather under his tempering bench and stood from his seat, producing a coinpurse from his belt. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh! No, nothing.” She smiled meekly at him and adjusted the clasp of her own coinpurse, which felt uncomfortably light. Still, she hated to impose, especially on one as handsome and kind as Balimund. “I think I’m getting paid soon.” She shrugged slightly, audibly unsure of her own words.

A moment of silence passed between the two before he put his purse away, pursing his lips. “Indaryn is taking you for everything you have, Erelin. You can’t go on with that little pay.” He gestured to her hip where she kept her gold. 

“Nobody else here will hire me, sir.” She considered continuing but decided against it, worried she would alienate her only friend by calling his people racist. “It’s a job.” She added, once again shrugging noncommitally.

“Not much of one.” The smith grunted, once again untying his coinpurse and producing a small handful, offering it out to her. “Take it, and don’t argue about it, you need this.” His voice was stern but his actions generous, allowing the Altmer to take the gold for herself. 

“Thank you.” Erelin spoke quietly, fighting off a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth as their hands touched. She tucked the coin away and waved lightly to him before walking off in the direction of the meadery as the shift change bell rang. Without a word, she gathered her amber hair and tied it back into a crude, messy bun, just competent enough not to let anything escape.

-/-

Hours later she exited the meadery’s doors, covered in sweat, honey, and alcohol, her second-hand clothes stained despite the apron she wore. Utterly exhausted, she began back to Haelga’s Bunkhouse, the only place anyone would take her. As she passed the empty plaza, however, a voice called from the dark. 

“Erelin!”

She turned slowly around, nearly tripping over her own feet as she faced Balimund, still illuminated by the soft orange glow of the forge. He didn’t seem to be doing anything, however, as his usual tools were nowhere in sight.

“Yes?” She replied, barely audible over the sound of the sloshing water in the canals. The Altmer approached the smithy for the second time that day, taking comfort in the dry warmth of the forge that washed away the suffocating humidity of the air around them. 

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation earlier today,” he shifted the rod of iron that he was heating in the coals, turning it over onto its side, “you aren’t happy with your job at the Meadery, are you?” He asked an obvious, almost rhetorical question, yet waited for an answer. 

“Well… I suppose not, no. It is uncomfortable and it pays very little.” She scratched the back of her neck, casting her eyes down into the dull pit of the forge. 

Balimund pulled the rod out of the coal, well over half of it now glowing red with heat. “What do you know about smithing?” He indicated the rod, flipping it over in his gloved hand. 

“My father was a blacksmith, he taught me some things.” She blinked a few times and looked around, waiting to be jumped by some thugs as she questioned what the conversation was about. 

The smith nodded and placed the rod back into the forge beneath the coals. “I have an offer for you, then.” He stood up, setting the chair back in its corner and approaching Erelin. “If you would like, I could use some assistance here. My son is adequate but I need someone who isn’t a student to help me run the forge. I can pay you more than the Black Briars ever will.”

“I…” She blinked a few times, taken aback by the offer. “Are you certain? There must be more qualified people here in the city.” Despite the fact that she wanted the job--and wanted to be closer to Balimund--she found herself trying to talk him out of it. 

“Maybe, but none of them are my friend.” He crossed his arms over his chest and met her eyes, one of the few people who could do that, considering her height. “The pay won’t be great, but it’ll be a lot more than the meadery pays.” He reiterated his point, gesturing to the forge. “What do you say?”

Once again they were both silent until the Altmer finally spoke up. “I suppose… I would love to, yes.” Despite the excitement in her voice she remained physically reserved, her arms still crossed over her belly and her eyes not quite meeting his. 

“Good!” He exclaimed and reached out, patting her on the shoulder with one of his large, soot-covered hands. “You can have tomorrow to quit over at the meadery. We’ll start on Fredas. Now go on, get some sleep.” He smiled brightly, sending a shot of warmth straight to Erelin’s heart, before stepping away and into his home, leaving the Altmer smiling widely.

This, she knew, was the start of something better than anything she could have hoped for when she was first taken here.


End file.
